Everything became a blur as I dropped down the sheer edge of the inner wall. Far below me lay the hard stone rooftops of the bunkhouses, but hitting them rather than the ground wouldn’t make all that much difference. There was probably only a couple of hundred feet difference between the two and—from this height—the result would be the same: my flesh splattered ingloriously across the stone.

The wind didn’t seem inclined to check or hinder the speed of my drop, and it made me wonder—far too late—if perhaps the voice I’d heard advising me to jump belonged to Hedra, using my trust of wind’s voice against me.

But as I drew closer to the ground, the air surged, buffeting and bruising my body even as she gripped me. The speed of my fall began to ease, but the urgency I could hear within her was growing.

I hit the wet rooftop hard enough to send a shudder of pain through my entire body, and stumbled forward several feet as the wind abruptly released me, and I struggled to keep my balance.

A shout had me reaching for my knife and spinning around. The air was so thin that even though I hadn’t been here long, my lungs were beginning to burn and my head was pounding. There were unconscious soldiers everywhere on the ground below, their clothes and hair fluttering in the almost violent exodus of oxygen toward the gates. But some of the Nightwatch had managed to grab breathing apparatus, and many of them were now heading up the stairs to the walls. Walls that were shuddering under multiple impacts, something I could feel through the stones under my feet.

So where was Hedra?

There was no sign of her in the immediate area. I ran to the edge of the roof, leapt down to the walkway and pounded along, the sound of my steps lost in the cacophony of noise coming from both the sirens and the roar of the Adlin. On the second bunkhouse level, there were at least a dozen unconscious Daywatch soldiers lying across the walkway, and several had breathing masks they hadn’t been able to strap on in time. I scooped up one, hurriedly tying on the small tank before pulling on the mask. It didn’t immediately help either the burning in my lungs or the pounding in my head, but that was to be expected. I jumped over the railing and dropped down to the ground. No one paid me any attention—all those who remained awake and aware were focused on the wall and the Adlin, none of them realizing the real threat lay within the walls, not without.

I paused, and looked around. Logically, Hedra wouldn’t be out in the open. She’d either be hidden in the deeper shadows, out of the immediate sight of any Nightwatch officer, or perhaps even in one of the two emergency shelters used to protect noncombatants caught within the outer bailey during an attack.

Former, the wind whispered. Ahead.

Ahead was not a useful instruction given the sheer size of the outer bailey. Nevertheless, I ran on, my grip fierce on the knife as my gaze constantly swept the shadows, looking for any hint, any sign, of life.

The pull on the air got stronger, seeming to crystalize in thought and determination. Urgency beat at my brain even as the wind tore around me, harrying my steps, pressuring me to greater speed. I all but flew across the wet stones, and still, there was no sign of her.

For freedom’s sake, I need more help than this! If you wish to help me save Winterborne, then tell me where Hedra is!

For an instant, I thought the mental plea went unheard. Then the wind hit me, pushing me to the left. In the shadows near the box that normally held the guard who monitored day-to-day entry into the upper areas stood Hedra.

Unfortunately, the same wind that showed her to me also revealed my approach to her.

She clenched her fist, but instead of throwing me backward with a tumultuous blast of air, as I half expected, she ripped her hand back, as if the air was a rope attached to something very real and very solid.

I felt the shudder in the stone first, and then heard a strange, almost metallic groaning; immediately after this, metal began to pierce the air—metal that was thick and heavy and smelled of machinery oil.

And it was coming straight at me.

I cursed and hit the ground, my hands over my head in a rather useless act of protection. The wind shifted its force just enough for the deadly projectiles to smash into the inner wall above me rather than into my body, but I was nevertheless covered in a rain of metal, cogs, and freedom only knew what else. Pain shuddered through my body, but it was minor compared to the fear.

Because the metal projectiles were nothing other than the remains of the apparatus that operated the gates. Without it, there were only the two steel girders that were automatically dropped into place to provide additional support to the gates in the event of a mass attack.

But those girders were shuddering and shaking in position as the wind tore at them with increasing force.

Stop, I silently screamed at the air. You have to stop it. You can’t open the gates.

Can’t stop, the wind whispered. It is not a matter of will, but rather control.

And Hedra was the far stronger air witch here, even if she wasn’t from one of the ruling houses.

I cursed and pushed upright. The wind swung around me, battering me, hindering me, but not, I knew, with the force Hedra wanted. Still, it was enough to snatch the mask from my face and rip the lines free from the small air cylinder. As it was sent tumbling, twisting up into the air and out of reach, Hedra screamed. Not in fear, but in fury. I could hear her now—she wanted the wind to grab my body as it had grabbed the mask, to send me flying, to smash me against the wall the machinery had hit.

Wanted it to rip her free of this place, to take her well beyond the walls and the Adlin where she would meet the Queen’s forces and be safe.

The wind tore at me, sending sections of skirt flying but leaving me otherwise intact. And it left her on the ground.

I staggered forward, my knuckles white with the force of my grip on my knife. I had one chance—just one chance—to stop this madness. The temptation to throw my knife and end her life here and now was fierce, but the wind whispered against it. It was still bound to obey Hedra, if only partially, and would divert the blade if I did so.

If she saw me coming, she gave no sign of it. Her concentration now seemed to be solely on the gates. I didn’t dare look at how close she was to succeeding in her aim of opening them; my goal was to stop her, and every inch of concentration and energy was now being poured into that.

Inch by inch, I drew closer. But every step felt like a goddamn mile; my lungs burned, and my heart pounded so rapidly I swore it was about to tear out of my chest.

Then the inevitable happened. The crossbeams were flung free of the latches holding them in place, and the two extremely heavy gates that protected Winterborne opened with a crash that reverberated through every inch of the outer bailey.

“No!” I screamed, and lunged at Hedra.

She saw me, but far too late. She raised a hand as if to batter me away physically as well as magically, but my knife punched through her chest and sliced into her heart. Her eyes went wide as the realization of death hit and the wind died. The silence that briefly followed was eerie. If the wind mourned her passing, then she did not speak of it.

As her body crumpled to the ground, I swung around, sucking the returning air into my burning lungs as I prayed that the Adlin hadn’t noticed the gates were open.

It was a forlorn hope at best, and one that died very quickly.

A sea of thickset, hairy beings scrambled in through the opening. Nightwatch officers were pouring down from the walkways, and it was literally raining metal as they fired everything they had at the incoming Adlin. But there were far too many Adlin and far too few soldiers armed with nitrate rifles to do too much damage.

I bent and pressed my hand against the stone. Bury her deep. Keep the bracelets safe and out of sight. Tell no one about her presence or where she lies.

The earth didn’t speak to me, but after a moment, a rumble ran through the ground, and the stone split asunder. Hedra’s body dropped without ceremony into that gash. It swiftly closed again, leaving no trace of the woman who had betrayed us all.

But the stones under my feet continued to shake. Power surged through it, through me, a force that was both masculine and familiar. The rumbling increased as the ground began to heave and rise, becoming a wave of almost molten rock that raced toward the doorway, sweeping the Adlin before it, forcing them back. As this first wave pushed them beyond the gateway, a second wave began to form. At the same time, thick gray fingers of stone crept up the gatehouse walls and began pushing at the doors. They shifted, slowly at first, but with increasing speed. More Adlin appeared, scrambling over the still-moving wave of earth and then throwing themselves through the rapidly closing gap. Some didn’t make it, becoming little more than a smear of blood and hair as the doors slammed shut. The second wave then crashed upon them, quickly forming a retaining wall and providing extra weight to hold the doors closed.

But there were at least two sleuths now locked within the outer bailey walls. And while some of them were attacking the defenseless men and women who lay on the ground, most were running to the right, to the stairs that led up to the bunkhouses.

Why? What on earth did they hope to achieve by fleeing there rather than attacking? They wouldn’t find much in the way of protection, especially given the lack of maneuvering space on the narrow walkways and within the small rooms….

A throaty roar caught my attention. I glanced around sharply and saw an Adlin coming straight at me, his eyes filled with rage and his teeth bared and bloody. I swore, flung some air his way to slow his steps, then spun and ran. I wasn’t about to face even one of those damn creatures armed with just a short-bladed knife.

But the creature was faster than I’d ever be, and was gaining on me far too rapidly. As the shuddering earth warned me of the creature’s closeness, I scooped up a couple of blasters and then spun around, firing them nonstop even as I continued to run backward, my steps guided by the whispering of the wind. The Adlin’s body shook and shuddered under the barrage of the blaster’s bullets, but it wasn’t stopped. Nothing except a nitrate rifle could do that, and there certainly weren’t any of those lying about in the near vicinity.

“Duck!” a familiar voice screamed.

I did so without question and, a second later, the Adlin’s head was blown apart. As his body lost momentum and fell to the ground near my feet, I twisted around. Ava strode toward me, a fierce grin on her face and a bloody wound stretching down her left arm from above her elbow to her knuckles.

“That,” I said, accepting her help up, “was a very nice piece of timing.”

She gave me a quick hug, and then shoved a rifle in my hands. “Let’s go get the rest of these bastards.”

“Where’s April?” I said, as we strode forward.

“Don’t know. His festival shift was from ten until two, and I didn’t see him afterward.”

“We need to find him.” My gaze scanned the bunkrooms above us. The Adlin were still running through the second and third levels, but I couldn’t see any sign of opposition. The soldiers I’d seen up there might have survived the air being sucked from their lungs, but it looked like they’d not survived the ravages of the Adlin.

I pushed away the possibility of death being April’s fate and caught the ammo loop Ava threw me. We reached the base of the stairs and headed up.

After a quick sweep through the first level to ensure there were no Adlin lying in wait, we joined six others and made our way toward the second level. A pack of seven Adlin immediately came at us, their screams ripping across the air, hurting my ears. We fired as one, and the Adlin went down, their bodies torn apart by the spray of metal. We reloaded and checked each bunkhouse to ensure no creatures remained. All we found was bodies. The remnants of at least a dozen soldiers were scattered in either the rooms or on the walkways, but it was obvious none of them had been caught unawares. They’d either died when the air had been sucked from their lungs, or had gone down fighting the Adlin with whatever they could get their hands on. But wood and steel was of little use against the greater strength and reach of the creatures.

We cautiously moved up to the last level—our floor. My gut twisted as we neared the coupling room April, Ava, and I usually used, but it was empty of both life and death. Relief spun through me, but it was a tempered with the knowledge that while he wasn’t here, he could still be dead.

We took out the remaining Adlin and then continued checking the rest of the rooms. They’d not only gotten as far as ours, but had also, in fact, torn it apart. Furniture had been broken, the bedding torn into pieces, and our personal lockers smashed beyond repair, their contents spilled all over the floor. Even the walls and the ceiling had not escaped the Adlin’s attentions.

Ava stopped in the middle of all the mess and looked around with something close to bemusement. I walked past her, looking for my uniforms. I eventually found a shirt that was only missing one arm, a pair of pants that were whole aside from a slight rip along the seam near my thigh, and—most importantly of all—a pair of boots for my beaten-up feet. Once I’d stripped off what remained of my sodden skirt and top, I quickly dried myself on the remnants of a towel and then got dressed.

Outside, the siren finally stopped and with it went the sound of the Adlin’s howls from beyond the walls. The silence was almost eerie. I sat on the edge of the bed and contemplated the mess, wondering again what they were doing here. The destruction in the other rooms had been nowhere near as bad as this.

“You know,” Ava mused, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say they were searching for something.”

Suspicion of what that thing might be stirred and I stood abruptly. “Ava, can you see that bracelet I brought back from Blacklake anywhere?”

She shook her head. “Mind you, it’s rather hard to spot anything in this.”

“We need to find it.”

“We need to find April,” she said. “The bracelet and this mess can wait.”

“No, it can’t, trust me on that.”

She frowned me, but nevertheless helped me search. We went through everything, searched everywhere; we found the gorgeous jewelry Ava had tucked away for a special event, and April’s dagger made from an Adlin’s claw, but the bracelet was conspicuously absent.

“It’s gone,” Ava said. “Though how that is possible I can’t say. None of them escaped us.”

Yes, the wind said. They did. The roof.

I turned and ran the door. Ava followed me out. I stopped at the railing but couldn’t immediately see anything, so I climbed up, balancing preciously before leaping for the roof. I caught the edge and hauled myself up. Ava soon followed me.

What we discovered was more bodies—bodies that hadn’t been there when I’d jumped down from the inner wall. Bodies that were both Adlin and Nightwatch.

“Well, these buggers are well and truly dead.” Ava lightly nudged an Adlin with her toe. “None of them appear to be carrying anything, though.”

“No.” I walked over to the edge of the building. Far below me, in the Bay of Giants, the ocean pounded against the white cliffs, a fierce and murderous force no human or Adlin could survive. Not that the Adlin would even consider jumping given their fear of water in general. So why did they come up here? They had to have known there was no escape. And as powerful as the Adlin were, there was no way even they could throw the bracelet across the distance that separated Winterborne from the white sand that lined the bay’s gentler shoreline. And by the time they had come up here, Hedra was dead, so the wind couldn’t have helped them. Unless, of course, there was another witch involved, one we didn’t know about.

Hell, it might even be Saska, for all I knew.

No, the wind whispered. The Adlin are accompanied by another witch. It is he who commanded the wind to snare the bracelet and bring it to them.

I briefly closed my eyes. Yet another traitor… or was it perhaps one of the many children Saska and the other stolen witches had given birth to?

“Neve! You up here?”

It took me a moment to recognize the voice—Trey. “On the roof, Commander.”

Ava walked over to the other edge and peered down. “So is this the commander? The one who sent you the dress and whisked you away to the Upper Reaches?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.” Ava paused. “I must say, he’s rather nice-looking. Well caught, you.”

“It’s hardly likely to be anything more than a passing fancy,” I said, my gaze on the distant shoreline. “I’m unlit, remember?”

“Unlit maybe, but not undesirable.”

I smiled and didn’t answer. Although the rain had eased, the sky remained thunderous, and there was little light glimmering on that distant shore. But it didn’t matter, because I could feel movement, through the stones and the earth. There was at least one sleuth, if not more, running away from that shore.

Why would they risk so much for the return of one bracelet?

I blinked at the thought. There wasn’t just one bracelet involved. There were two.

And if they’d gone to extremes here to retrieve it, what would they do at Blacklake?

I ran back to the other edge of the roof and jumped down, sprinting forward without really looking, and just about collided with Trey as he came up the walkway.

“Whoa,” he said, catching me firmly. “What’s the hurry?”

“The bracelet,” I said. “They were after the bracelet.”

Understanding flashed across his eyes. He didn’t say anything; he just grabbed my hand and ran back down the bunkhouse levels. Captain July was walking across the courtyard toward the infirmary area, but stopped the minute he saw us.

“Commander Stone,” he said. “I believe we have you to thank for the earthworks that saved Winterborne.”

Which was why the energy had seemed familiar—it had been Trey who’d called the earth into action.

“Indeed, Captain.” Trey came to a halt and released my hand. “And now I must ask a favor of you. We need to get to Blacklake immediately.”

The captain frowned. “It’s not safe, Commander. The Adlin still roam—”

“I know, and I don’t care. I have reason to believe Blacklake will come under a similar attack, and I will not remain here while they fight for their lives.”

The captain hesitated. “A speeder could be ready inside twenty minutes; the problem is the gates—”

“What I’ve done can be undone,” Trey said. “If you can arrange the immediate preparation of a speeder and weaponry for myself and Neve, I’ll make an urgent call up to Lord Kiro, requesting the presence of several earth witches. They can help you restore the gates into full working order.”

He glanced at me. “Neve has been given a leave of absence. She’s not even supposed to be here—”

“She’s here under my orders, Captain; in fact, I will formally request her secondment to my division until the current situation is dealt with.”

The captain’s frown grew as he glanced at me. “Neve?”

“It’s only temporary, Captain, and I’m more than happy to help the commander out.”

“Then head over to three and see what weaponry they have left.” He glanced back to Trey. “Contact Kiro, Commander, and I’ll do my part.”

“Meet back here,” Trey said to me, and then left.

“Neve, what’s going on?” Ava said, as she came up behind me.

I turned around. “I’m off to fight a second battle at Blacklake. Find April for me; I need to know he’s okay.”

“Why on earth do you have to go?”

“Because the commander wishes it.” I hesitated, wondering how much I should tell her. “While the invitation to the masque was real enough, I’m not there to enjoy myself. I’m helping the commander ferret out a couple of spies—”

“Spies!”

“Quiet!” I looked around to ensure no one had overheard us. “This can’t become common knowledge.”

She gently cupped my face, her fingers cool against my skin. “It won’t, you know that. But how deep does the deception go?”

“The woman behind this attack is—was—an air witch from a non-ruling house. But there are others involved, others who come from higher houses.”

Ava swore. “I wondered how the bastards managed to blast the door open. The truth is, they didn’t. They had help.”

“Yes, although I can’t tell you why they went to all that trouble to retrieve one bracelet. To me, the prize doesn’t justify the cost, whatever the end design might be.”

“Until you know the end design, you can’t actually say that with any certainty,” Ava said. “Why hasn’t the commander gotten the carabinieri involved? Surely they should be the ones investigating this?”

“Lord Kiro is in charge of the investigation. I dare say he’ll call in the cops once all the threads of the plot have been uncovered.”

Ava nodded then leaned forward and dropped a kiss on my cheek. “Don’t get dead on me, Neve.”

I smiled. “Like most bad smells, I’m rather hard to get rid of.”

She snorted and slapped my arm—and hard enough to sting. “Stop putting yourself down, woman, whether in jest or not.”

“Yes, ma’am.” My grin grew as I stepped back. “I’d better get going. Kiss April for me when you find him.”

“I’ll clip him over the damn ear for causing us both so much damn worry first,” she said. Then, with a nod, she headed for the infirmary.

I spun and jogged across to armory three. Jon was looking a little worse for wear—there was a roughly patched but still bloody cut that stretched from his forehead down to his neck, and his bad leg had been splinted and was obviously in need of further attention, but his smile was wide and his eyes shone.

“The bastards thought I’d be easy meat,” he said, as I slowed down. “They soon learned otherwise.”

“Next time it might be best not to let them get so close before you take them down.”

He laughed and slapped my arm. “You could be right there, lass. What do you need?”

“Weapons. The captain’s given approval—”

“Aye, he’s sent through a message, which is why the armory’s open and waiting. Come along.”

We once again headed inside. I waited while he hobbled across to the near-empty storage lockers, my gaze scanning the shadows. The nearby shelves and lockers had been emptied, but down the far end, I glimpsed the shapes and shadows of the ancient weapons. Curiosity stirred and I walked down. The farther I got, the darker it became. It seemed the powers that be weren’t about to waste electricity where it wasn’t needed.

The shelves of old guns and other odd bits of machinery soon gave way to the even older, medieval-style weapons Jon had mentioned a week ago. But it was the glass swords that drew me; having used the knife a number of times, I could certainly see the benefit of having a longer blade. I picked up a couple, testing their weight and feel, but most of them were too heavy or too long for someone my size. But on the shelf close to bottom I found one that was perfect. Once I’d also found its scabbard, I headed back.

“What have you got this time, lass?” Jon said.

I grinned and showed him the sword. “The knife has come in handy, so I figured something bigger might be doubly so.”

He snorted and shook his head. “You’re definitely certifiable. But it’s yours if you want it.”

“And I do.”

I signed out the sword, the ammo, and the weapons, and then went over to requisitions to grab a new earwig—one that was multi-tuned, enabling communications between the various outposts and us when we were on escort duty. The speeder had been lifted up from the underground garage by then, and the heat from her engines rippled the air as she hovered in the middle of the courtyard. The speeders were triangular in shape and could carry up to four people across both land and sea faster than any other vehicle in the armory. But they were not without their problems, and were extremely fragile. Even rough weather could tear them apart.

Trey, Kiro, and two other men I didn’t recognize came out of the inner gateway as I approached the vehicle. The captain appeared and handed Trey a ledger. Once the vehicle was signed over, Trey motioned me to get in. I did so, placing all the weapons and the ammo in the storage bins before climbing into the driver seat. Trey spoke to the captain and the other three men for several seconds and then climbed in behind me.

As I closed the main door, the two strangers approached the gatehouse and a heavy rumble began to fill the air. The retaining wall sitting against the back of the gate began to slide away, until a clear enough path appeared for the gates to be opened and the speeder to go through.

“Ready?” I asked, as I punched in the coordinates.

“Hit it,” Trey said. “Push this damn thing as fast it can go.”

Which was precisely what I did. The speeder shot out of Winterborne, gathering speed as it accelerated over the remnants of the first wave of dirt. Dust plumed behind us, a beacon that would call to any Adlin left out here. It didn’t matter. They wouldn’t catch us on foot and they didn’t have the knowledge or the technology to do anything else. Trebuchets might have provided a problem had the Adlin been able to mount them onto a vehicle or at least fire them with some sort of accuracy, but they didn’t.

We shot through the darkness, the whine of the engines filling the air. The tension in the man behind me grew with each mile that passed, until it felt like every breath was filled with it. I wanted to tell him that it would be all right, that his daughter would be all right, but after what had happened at Winterborne, I dared not. We had no idea just how far this treachery might reach. He might trust the witches stationed at Winterborne, but witches weren’t the only ones who could destroy machinery and open gates. A single soldier armed with several well-placed bombs could achieve the very same thing. A week ago, I wouldn’t have thought such a betrayal possible, but my perception had certainly changed.

We didn’t see any Adlin and the sensors weren’t picking up any evidence of movement. I had no doubt they were out there somewhere, just as I had no doubt they’d been sent to Blacklake solely to retrieve the other bracelet.

The Blacksaw Mountains soon loomed large in the front windscreen. Trey leaned over my shoulder and said, “Can you contact Blacklake from here?”

I glanced at him. “You can’t?”

He half smiled, though it didn’t lift the tension from around his eyes. “I took the earwig out when I left Blacklake. The Reaches gentry don’t wear them, and I didn’t want to stir too much curiosity.”

“Good idea.” I triple tapped the earwig to get the right communicator and then said, “Blacklake, this is Nightwatch eight-three inbound from Winterborne with Commander Stone. Are you hearing me?”

Static was my only reply. I frowned and tried again. “Blacklake, this is Nightwatch eight-three, relaying a request for a status update from Commander Stone. Please reply.”

More static.

Trey swore and scraped a hand across his chin. “Either communications are out or they’re under attack and haven’t the time to reply.”

“I can’t see any indications of an attack on the sensors, Commander,” I said.

“Which might just mean they hit Blacklake at the same time as they did us. Can this thing go any faster?”

“No.”

He swore again and sat back. I didn’t say anything. I just concentrated on keeping the speeder on track and out of the way of anything that could rip its underbelly apart.

The faint glimmer of lights appeared on the horizon. Some were flickering, some weren’t, suggesting the source was both electrical and fire. The sensors began to beep softly—not because we were nearing our destination but because there was movement out there in the darkness. Adlin, but not huge swaths of them.

“What do you want me to do, Commander?”

“Swing around to the right,” he said, “and come into Blacklake from the other side of the river. The Adlin aren’t likely to have crossed it, no matter how desperate they are.”

I made a long sweeping curve to the right. While our course initially took us away from Blacklake, it was evident even from this distance that the outpost had taken a serious hammering. Smoke billowed from the gatehouse and, if the sheer size of the rubble that had been blown across not only the moat but also the ground beyond it was anything to go by, at least half it had come down. There were also fires raging within the outer bailey, the glow of them turning the skies above Blacklake a bloody red.

I hoped it wasn’t a sign of what was waiting for us within.

The glimmer of the Black River came into view, although in truth it was more a lake than a river in this section, given the outpost had dammed and widened it for defensive purposes.

We skimmed across its surface, the dark water pluming high on either side as I directed the vehicle to the rear of the settlement. The walls here were at least intact and there was no indication from the radar that the Adlin—or anyone else—had reached this side.

I eased the speed and engaged the stability struts. As they unfolded from the sides of the vehicle, Trey hit the release button and opened the door. The smell of smoke and burned flesh immediately hit, and my stomach churned. Whatever else had happened here, there’d been casualties.

Trey moved back to the weapons locker and opened it up. “A sword?”

I smiled at the disbelief in his voice and shut the engines down. “Trust me, it’s not a normal sword.”

“I can see that—it’s made of glass.”

“The same as my knife, which severed an Adlin’s leg with one quick cut.”

He looked skeptical, but handed me the weapon, a rifle, and an ammo loop. He took the other guns, strapping them to his legs before slinging the second rifle and ammo loop across his shoulders. With a glance at me to ensure I was ready, he exited.

I leapt across to the bank then followed him along the base of the wall to the smaller rear gatehouse. The acrid stench of smoke still stung the air, but it was the hush that was more unnerving. There were no alarms, no sound of voices. And maybe it was simply a matter of the sheer thickness and height of the walls stopping any such sound from reaching us, but it was nevertheless worrying.

Unlike the gateway at Winterborne, this was protected by a heavy metal portcullis. It was at least forty feet high and double that in width, which meant that even a sleuth of Adlin would have had trouble shifting it. There were no electronics visible, no obvious way to raise the gates or communicate with those inside, but beyond the portcullis, in the small covered area between it and the main gate, there were several cameras. Whether they were working or not was another matter.

“Do you want me to try hailing them again?”

He shook his head and squatted down in front of the portcullis. “Communications must be down. Otherwise, they’d have responded to our presence by now. Give me your knife.”

I did so. After brushing away the dirt and grime from one of the stones, he jammed the knife’s delicate edge into the small gap between the stones and twisted it sideways. There was a soft click, and the stone slid to one side, revealing an ancient-looking scanner panel.

“That,” I said, accepting my knife back, “is a rather ingenious hiding spot.”

“It was apparently the brainchild of a commander some two hundred years ago, after some of his men had been stranded by a lockdown and subsequently slaughtered by the Adlin.”

“The lake hadn’t been created at that point?”

“No. That came with my predecessor, after a particularly dry year left little more than a trickle of water in the river.”

It undoubtedly provided them with a secondary source of drinking water, too. “Will the scanner still work if comms and power are down?”

“It should. Both gates can be operated on emergency power.”

He placed his hand against the glass and then pressed one of the buttons on the side. After a moment, the screen came to life and his hand was scanned. A light flicked from red to green and the portcullis slowly began to open.

Trey closed the scanner, scuffed dirt back over the stone to cover its presence, then ducked under the portcullis and strode to the rear gate. It, like Winterborne’s, was made of black stone, though the large patches of lichen and moss that decorated the surface of this one suggested it wasn’t often in use. He hit a stone to the right of the doors and the portcullis dropped back into position with a clang. He pressed a second stone, and a noise not unlike a bass drum’s beat began to boom out from behind the main gate somewhere.

“A doorbell?” I said, amused.

He glanced at me. Though a smile twitched at his lips, it failed to ease the tension in his eyes. “It’s a door, so why shouldn’t it have a bell?”

I snorted softly, but was stopped from replying when a gruff voice said, “ID number?”

I glanced around but couldn’t immediately see where the demand was coming from.

“593714ST,” Trey said.

“Voice and number correlation. Good to have you back, Commander.”

With a heavy rumble, one of the big doors began to slide aside. There were armed soldiers on the other side, but they relaxed the minute they saw us.

“Hansen, report.” Trey stepped through the gap and began striding down a long, dark corridor lined with both weapon and oil slits. While both were considered to be rather old-fashioned these days, if they’d been in place at Winterborne, perhaps the Adlin wouldn’t have gotten as far as they did.

“The main gatehouse has been breached,” Hansen said as he fell in step beside the commander. “There are twenty-seven known casualties so far, and three dead. The inner wall remains secure and the Adlin have been repelled.”

Meaning, I hoped, that the bracelet was still here and safe.

“No civilian casualties?” Trey’s voice was clipped. He was asking about his daughter, even if he didn’t come out and say it.

“No, Commander. And your daughter is safe. We haven’t as yet given the all clear to the raid shelters though.”

The tension that had been holding Trey hostage almost immediately lifted. “And the gates? How were they breached?”

“A blast of some kind,” Hansen said. “Lieutenant Ruma has just sent a recon team out.”

“Under full cover, I hope.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“And communications?”

“Were partially destroyed when the gatehouse fell, and finished off by the Adlin.”

Trey grunted. “I want them restored as a priority, Hanson.”

“Aye, Commander.”

We came out into the inner bailey courtyard. There were several fires burning and people everywhere, some of them ferrying wounded to the small inner bailey hospital, others either trying to put out the fires or clean up rubble. The inner courtyard might not have fallen, but it had certainly been hit—and by something more than just trebuchets. The missiles the Adlin had used during their last attack on this place certainly hadn’t been capable of the damage done here. It almost looked like the stone had spontaneously blown apart—and the only people capable of causing that sort of havoc were earth witches of extreme power. Trey trusted those under his command, so did that mean someone else had slipped in here? For the most part, the outposts—other than West Range—weren’t used as vacation spots, but it wasn’t unknown for the kin of those serving at them to visit from time to time. Could one such visit have led to this destruction?

If the wind knew the answers to any of my questions, she certainly wasn’t saying. In fact, she was being remarkably mute. But maybe she was still grieving for Hedra’s soul.

No, the wind said. She is a betrayer, and unworthy of our collective grief. But we cannot fully answer your questions. She forbade us.

She? Hedra, you mean?

Yes.

If you deem her a betrayer, why do you still follow her wishes?

Because the order carries the weight of three, and while one lives, the order holds.

Meaning Saska, I gathered, given she was the only one left of the three women who’d been wearing the bracelets. Can she countermand the order alone?

No. Only death will break the binding.

And I certainly wasn’t going to kill her. Saska might be a part of whatever the hell was going on, but she was also our only real hope of finding answers. And maybe now that Hedra was dead, she’d be more willing to talk.

Two soldiers saluted the commander as we neared inner gatehouse tower and then opened the heavy metal door. Trey bounded up the stairs; I followed, not sure what else to do. But that uncertainty had no sooner crossed my mind when he glanced back at me and gave me a nod. It was almost as if he’d heard the thought, which was decidedly odd considering he wasn’t even wearing an earwig. And while I could talk to the wind, he couldn’t, so it was unlikely she’d passed on the inner question.

Another two soldiers stood watch at the top of the stairwell. Trey pressed his hand against a scanner to the right of the heavy metal doors and, once they’d opened, strode inside. This room was basically a smaller-scale version of the one in the outer bailey. My gaze immediately went to the wide windows that lined the front of the room. The damage was even more extensive than it had looked from a distance. It wasn’t only the left half the main gatehouse that had fallen, but a good twenty or more feet of the wall on that side. It would have taken one hell of a powerful explosion to cause that sort of damage, which surely meant that while the Adlin might have been involved in the attack—and they certainly had been given the number of bodies below in the courtyard—they weren’t the brains behind this whole event.

We desperately needed to find out who actually was.

Ruma turned around as he entered. “Glad to have you back, Commander.”

He nodded. “Any idea how the breach happened yet?”

“Unfortunately yes. We think we caught the perpetrators on video before comms went down.” Her gaze flickered to mine and, just for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of hostility. “Grant, on the main screen if you please.”

“You saw them, and didn’t stop them?” Trey said.

Ruma nodded. “You’ll understand the lack of urgency when you see the playback, Commander.”

He crossed his arms and waited. The big screen sitting above the main viewing platform flickered then came to life; what appeared was a nighttime view of the outer courtyard, with the main gatehouse front and center. Music and laughter could be heard—no doubt the equinox celebrations in full swing—but on the screen all was quiet. Aside from the watch officers making regular patrols, the courtyard was all but abandoned.

“Skip to the important part, Grant,” Ruma said.

The playback rolled forward at speed. At nine fifteen and thirty-four seconds, two figures appeared. They were dressed in black and were rather small in stature, appearing as little more than shadows in the night-held courtyard. Silver glinted on the wrists of both of them and my stomach began to churn.

They paused for several seconds, looking around carefully; one of them glanced briefly toward the camera, her face pale and thin. Shock coursed through me.

Not just because her entire face and every bit of visible skin was lavender-gray, but also because she couldn’t have been any older than ten or eleven.

“No,” I said in disbelief. “Two children can’t be responsible for all this destruction.”

“These two aren’t ordinary children.” This time there was no denying the hostility in Ruma’s gaze. “They’re stained, for a start—”

“Ruma,” Trey said, with just a hint of reprimand. “Enough.”

She glanced back at the screen, but anger still vibrated through every part of her body. Why was it when the unstained did something bad, no one thought to tar the entire community with the same brush, and yet the opposite was true when it came to us? Life wasn’t fair, I was well aware of that, but it was nevertheless frustrating.

I returned my gaze to the screen and watched the two children run across the yard and disappear inside the gatehouse. For a second there was no further movement, and no sound other than the ongoing celebrations. Then a rumble began, softly at first but gradually getting louder, until it seemed as if the earth itself was screaming. And perhaps it was, because a few seconds later, it heaved upwards with such force that one part of the gate sheered away from the other, and the section of wall connected to it was blasted away. Dust, earth, and metal exploded through the air and, for several more minutes, there was nothing else to be seen. When the debris settled and the dust began to clear, the gatehouse was down, the alarms were sounding, and the Adlin were pouring through the broken section of the wall.

“And the children?” Trey’s voice held little in the way of emotion.

“We presume they died in the explosion. We lost the cameras when the Adlin tore down the comms towers, but there was no sight of them before that point.”

“Did any of the Adlin get inside the inner bailey?” I asked.

“No.” Ruma didn’t even glance at me. “The Adlin don’t appear to have possessed whatever device the kids used, and the flooded moat stopped them getting too close to the inner wall. They retreated rather quickly.”

The Adlin never retreated quickly; if they’d done so here, then there’d been a purpose behind it.

It was also rather obvious that kids hadn’t been carrying anything. Not in their hands, and not on their tiny bodies. Whatever they’d used must have come from within—from the power of the earth or the air. I opened my mouth to say as much, but closed it again at Trey’s sharp look. Once again, he seemed to know what I’d been thinking.

“How did those kids get in here?” he asked. “They’re not from Blacklake.”

“No.” Ruma hesitated. “We found them unconscious in the wasteland a day and a half ago and brought them in. Both were severely malnourished and dehydrated, but otherwise unharmed. We had them in the infirmary but not under guard.”

“Whereabouts in Tenterra did you find them?” I asked.

She gave me the coordinates and I glanced at Trey. “That’s close to where I initially found Saska, Commander.”

“I doubt that’s a coincidence.”

“No.” I hesitated. “Perhaps I should go interview Treace? She might be able to tell us a bit more about the two children.”

Trey glanced at his second. “Has the medical and healing staff been given the all clear?”

“Aye, Commander, but we’re only using the secondary medical facilities. The main hospital was severely damaged in the explosion.”

Trey nodded and returned his gaze to mine. “Return to the main hall when you finish. I’ll meet you back there.”

And be careful. He might not have said that, but the words whispered around me nevertheless.

I nodded, spun around, and left. My footsteps echoed in the silence as I clattered down the stairs. The guards watched me, but neither acknowledged my presence nor tried to stop me.

Most of the fires were now out, although the foul scent of the oil the Adlin had used still hung on the air. Most of the debris had also been cleared; only the smaller stones and metal particles remained to show anything untoward had happened here.

I walked across the inner courtyard and bounded up the steps to the smaller hospital. It was packed with the injured and those tending to them, and there was certainly more here than the twenty-seven Hansen had initially mentioned. The air was thick with the scent of blood and the sounds of pain, and I found myself hoping April hadn’t found himself in a similar situation back at Winterborne.

I paused in the doorway and scanned the room, looking for Treace, but not immediately seeing her. I did spot Mace Dien’s wild red hair, and made my way over. He was tending to a youngish man with a shattered arm, but glanced up as I approached.

“Neve March,” he said, surprise evident. “I thought you’d gone back to Winterborne?”

“I had, but I was assigned duty to the commander—”

“He’s back? Excellent.” He returned his gaze to his patient. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m looking for Treace—have you seen her?”

“She’s upstairs, in the recovery ward.”

“Thanks.” I headed for the exit and climbed up to the next floor. This area was less chaotic than the floor below, but the beds were all filled, and cots had been brought in to cater for the overflow of wounded being tended to. I scanned the room again and spotted Treace’s familiar figure heading out the door on the far side.

I made my way through the maze and then hurried after her. “Treace,” I said, as she disappeared through another doorway.

Her face reappeared. “Neve,” she said, with a smile that only barely lifted the stress so evident in her. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

“No.” I stopped. “Have you got time to answer a couple of questions?”

“Possibly not, but come along with me while I’m collecting the medicines.”

“Thanks.” I followed her into the apothecary. “I just wanted to ask about the two children who were found in Tenterra the other day.”

“Those poor wee waifs?” She shook her head. “It’s criminal what’s been done to them.”

I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall, watching as she began gathering various herbs, tablets, and other medicinal items into the basket she was carrying. “In what way?”

“They were little more than skin and bones, and the smell that was coming from them—it was a mix of urine and blue cheese, and totally foul.” Her nose wrinkled. “The poor souls couldn’t have seen water for years. Their reaction certainly seemed to indicate that—they were terrified.”

A smile touched my lips. “That’s not unusual for kids, is it? Many would rather be grimy than clean any day.”

“This was more than the usual reluctance. We ended up having to give them a calmative.” She shook her head, sadness in her eyes. “Not that it did them much good. The foul scent seemed entrenched in their skins.”

“Were you able to question them?”

“We tried, but the language that came out of their mouths certainly wasn’t one I’d ever heard before.”

“So you weren’t able to find out anything about them? Or why they might have been out in Tenterra?”

“No.” She half shrugged. “Miller—one of the nurses here that has some telepathy ability—did a reading on them at the lieutenant’s request, but apparently all he got was an incoherent mess.”

“Is Miller around?”

The sadness in her expression increased. “He got caught when the main hospital’s wall collapsed. I haven’t seen him come in, so I don’t think he survived.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Treace.”

She sniffed and looked away. “He was a good man.”

I hesitated, waiting several beats to both honor the dead and to give her time to collect herself, and then said, “I don’t suppose he told you anything he saw?”

“A little.” She wrinkled her nose. “But it didn’t make much sense. He said he saw earth, tunnels, and darkness, and an existence that was little more than pain and suffering. He saw women strapped to beds, and the raw, bloody remnants of perfect little babies. And he saw skeletal hands that were thin, taloned, and lavender colored.”

Horror stirred through me. Much of what Miller had seen in the children’s minds seemed to echo what I’d so briefly caught in Saska’s. Did that mean she was connected to them?

Could they, perhaps, even be her children?

They’d been found close to where I’d found Saska, after all, and it wasn’t impossible that they’d been with her when she escaped. And yet, if that had been the case, why hadn’t I spotted them? And why would she not mention them? Could any memory loss be so complete that she wouldn’t feel something terrible had happened, that some vital part of her was missing?

Or was that what she’d been trying to tell me when she’d said many answers would be found if I searched the area in which she’d been discovered?

“Can you describe the two of them to me?”

Treace hesitated. “They were very badly stained—much worse than you are, I’m afraid—but one of them had the looks of an air witch, and the other could have been of the earth. They were both wearing lovely silver bracelets, which was strange given their physical and mental state. I mean, if someone cared enough to gift them something like that, why were they in such a state?”

Why indeed. But it confirmed that at least one of them could have been Saska’s. Or maybe even Pyra’s, given she, too, had given birth before she’d returned to Winterborne. “Were either of them tested for magic?”

Treace raised her eyebrows. “Why would they be? With staining that bad, lass, there’s no possibility they could have held magic.”

That raised my eyebrows, given Trey’s daughter was both stained and capable of magic. I’d been under the impression everyone at Blacklake was aware of her abilities, but Trey had obviously been a lot more circumspect than that. Which wasn’t really surprising since he’d given up his entire world—everything he’d ever known—to raise her himself.

“Do you know what’s happened to them?”

Guilt flashed across her face and she looked away. “Aye. They snuck out on me; I’m told they were likely killed in the attack.”

So she didn’t know that they were the reason the attack happened in the first place. Without their destruction of the wall, the Adlin wouldn’t have gotten into the outer bailey. I wasn’t about to tell her that, though. Not when she was already feeling so responsible. “You can’t be blamed for what happened, Treace. No one can. It’s just one of those unfortunate sequences of events.”

A smile ghosted her lips. “So Mace said.”

“Then believe him.” I pushed away from the wall. “I’ll let you get back to it.”

She nodded. “At least it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, given the wall fell. I never thought that was even possible. Makes life out here a little bit scarier now.”

“I’m sure your witches will ensure it doesn’t happen again.” Although the truth of the matter was, not even the strongest witch could defend this place—or Winterborne itself—against treachery. We had to find the people—be it the Irkallan or someone else—behind this plot and stop them.

Fast.

“I hope you’re right, lass. I really do.”

I gave her a smile and left her to it. Once back outside, I paused and looked around. I wanted—needed—to be doing something to help, but this wasn’t my home and Trey had given me orders to return to the main hall once I’d finished talking to Treace. After another moment, I reluctantly walked down the steps and headed across the yard toward the main hall. A bit of rubble skittered out from under my foot, and the sight of it had me pausing. It not only looked as if the very fabric of the stone had been stretched to breaking point, but it also had thin strands of metal entwined around it. I picked it up and turned it over in my hand. If the walls here had been built along the same lines as the ones at Winterborne, then the inner portion would be stone over which the thick sheet of shiny black metal had been wrapped. For this stone to be a weird mix of the two, the very fabric of both had to have been altered. And while I had no doubt the strongest earth witch would be capable of such a deed, it had been two kids behind the destruction here. I could accept the possibility that between them they’d had enough power over the earth to bring down Blacklake’s defenses, but surely two kids wouldn’t be able to draw so much power that both stone and metal had fused? Especially given most witches, be they air or earth, didn’t come into their true power until puberty?

Except, I thought with a chill, that rule didn’t hold true for those of us who were stained and magic capable. I’d always been able to hear the wind, even if my ability to interact with her hadn’t come until puberty. I might not have ever had much control over her, but how much of that was a result of not having anyone to teach me? Or the fact I’d never done the bonding ceremony with either element? Trey had said his daughter had been able to hear the earth from a very young age, and he’d been teaching her as soon as she could walk and talk in order to stop accidental usage that could have revealed her abilities to the wrong persons.

Frowning, I spun around and headed for the gatehouse rather than the main hall. Something about this stone prickled at my instincts, and I wasn’t about to ignore it. The drawbridge was still lowered, and though water remained in the inner moat, the gentle current swirling toward the damaged main hospital suggested it was already being drained back to the lake. The soldiers guarding the inner gatehouse gave me a nod of acknowledgment but didn’t stop me from entering the outer bailey. Maybe they remembered me from my previous time here, or perhaps they’d been sent word to let me pass unchallenged.

The destruction in the outer bailey looked even worse here at ground level than it had from within the tower. The wall and gatehouse had blown apart in chunks that were as big as some troop carriers, and the remnants of the Adlin and the few soldiers who’d been caught on the walls during the initial explosion and subsequent attack lay scattered everywhere. There was a group of men currently inspecting the gatehouse remains, but instinct had me going right, toward the workhouses, kitchens, and mess hall. I jumped off the drawbridge and walked close to the inner wall’s skin, my fingers brushing the cool black metal. At first glance, it seemed the fighting hadn’t gotten this far, as there wasn’t even blood splatter let alone any sign the wall had been attacked. And yet the ground told a different story; there were a lot of footprints in the mud. Big heavy prints that were Adlin rather than human. They’d run along here, but for what purpose?

The wall swept around to the left, a gentle curve that soon had the gatehouse and the drawbridge out of immediate sight. The muddy footprints continued forward, and a foul smell began to taint the air. Unease prickled across my skin and I slowed. There was no sign of any damage to the wall, and no indication what the Adlin had intended when they’d come this way. The wall remained unbroken, but the gentle curve gave way to an oddly rough-looking section of wall that was a mix of both metal and stone—much the same as stone in my hand. I glanced down; in the glow of light coming over the top of the inner wall, it looked vaguely washed out—as if the explosion had not only not stretched its matter to breaking point, but also drained all color.

Not color, a voice whispered. But power. Energy.

That voice didn’t belong to the wind: it hadn’t come from the air, but rather from the ground. It vibrated across my flesh before finding its way into my thoughts. The earth—or rather, the collective consciousness of all those who now lived within it—had finally decided to speak to me.

I looked back at the odd section of wall. Just like the stone in my hand, it, too, seemed colorless.

I frowned and walked closer. The muddy ground under my boots grew heated, and with it came a sense of anger and defilement. Whatever was going on, the earth wasn’t happy about it.

I stopped in front of the odd section stone and splayed the fingers of my free hand against it. There was a weird chill to the metal and stone mix, and its surface was very definitely rougher than the section it met at a very slight angle. I shifted my fingers to that portion of the wall. The metal was also cool, but the earth’s anger vibrated through it, giving it life and a pulse. I returned my hand to the rougher section. No heartbeat, just a strange deadness.

I stepped back and glanced up. The roughness continued right to the very top of the wall, but I couldn’t see anyone or anything up there—which wasn’t surprising given most of Blacklake’s watch would be concentrating all efforts on protecting the breached area from the possibility of another Adlin attack.

I followed the rough wall to the point where it met the main curtain wall. The join here was again messy—it was almost as if it had been done in a rush.

Had the inner wall been breached at some point in the distant past? Technology these days made patching any defects or imperfections easy, but maybe that hadn’t always been the case, at least out here in the outposts. Or maybe they’d believed the main wall was strong enough to repel anything the Adlin might throw at it, so they simply hadn’t bothered repairing small imperfections on the inner wall.

I brushed my fingers along the join between the two walls and frowned. There were more than a few gaps between the two, and while they might not be any wider than my little finger, that was enough for an Adlin to wedge a claw in and perhaps gain a means to either climb the wall or even tear it open.

I shifted and pressed an eye against one of the wider gaps. There seemed to be movement in the darkness beyond this section of the wall, and it was accompanied by a soft thrumming sound. It was coming from the earth and was almost a strangled sound of protest—as if the power and the voices that resided within her didn’t want to be doing whatever task they were being set to do.

But it was the air that slid through the tiny gap between the walls—air that was ripe with the scent of unwashed flesh, urine, and blue cheese—that gave me the answer as to what was happening in that darkness. It was the scent of the children. They weren’t dead. They were here, doing freedom only knew what.

I stepped back and sucked in a deep breath to try and wash the foul scent from my lungs. And though that sound wasn’t very loud, all movement stopped in the darkness beyond the wall. The silence that followed was full of fear, anticipation, and awareness.

I didn’t move. I barely even dared to breathe. I had no idea what was going on beyond this rough wall, or who else might be in there with the two children, but given the footprints, I certainly had suspicions—even if they made little sense. If there was one truth that had been indisputable up until now, it was the fact Adlin would never work alongside humans, be they adult or child. We were prey, a food source, not their allies.

After several more minutes, the noise resumed, and the beat of energy became quicker, harder, than before. I knelt and placed a hand against the earth. While I might have undergone the ceremony of Gaia with Trey, he hadn’t actually mentioned how I was supposed to use that power or even how to contact the voices within the earth. And while they might now have spoken to me, I needed more than that. I needed to see.

I closed my eyes and reached down to that part of me that had ever so briefly become one with the energy of the earth. She stirred within me, a pulse that was reluctant at first, but one that gradually grew until it matched the cadence coming from the earth under my fingertips.

Shapes twisted in the shadows behind my eyes. Shapes that were large and hairy, armed with sharp claws and wicked teeth. Not just one or two, but what looked to be a full sleuth. In front of them, standing with one hand against the wall, was a tall, dark-haired boy. On either side of him, each with one thin, lavender-gray hand wrapped around his arm and their bodies shaking and sweating, was a pale-haired girl and a dark-haired boy.

Three children, not two.

The original two had obviously survived the ferocity of the blast that had brought down the wall, but the third must have come in with the Adlin. And now they were all behind this wall, trying to get into the inner bailey. Because of the bracelet. Because whoever lay behind this scheme was so keen to get it back that they’d risk not only exposing the fact that they were working alongside the Adlin, but also risk the lives of at least four of their major weapons—because what else could Hedra and these three children be?

The images shifted abruptly, centering instead on the almost skeletal hand on which a silver bracelet gleamed. His fingers were pressed hard against a wall that had lost its black shine, and there was a three-foot radius of lifelessness around his hand. But even as I watched, it began to creep both up and down the wall.

They weren’t trying to blow this wall. They were creating a doorway—one big enough to fit the Adlin through. And with the entire outpost concentrating on damage done to the gatehouse and defending the breached wall, they could cause untold destruction before Blacklake was able to marshal its forces and fight back.

The screaming protest of earth, stone, and metal was growing stronger, a sound that suggested they were very close to achieving a break through.

I rose, then turned and raced back to the drawbridge. “Has communications been restored? Are you able to contact the command center?”

The nearest guard frowned. “No—comms and the earwig system remain down. We’re using runners—why?”

“Because the Adlin haven’t left. They’re still here, and about to break through the inner wall. We need to inform the commander immediately.”

“I can’t believe—”

“Believe it,” I growled. “And just do as I’m asking—now!”

“Nightwatch March, that’s impossible—”

So, he did know who I was. “So was them having the capacity to blow up the outer gatehouse and wall, and yet here we are, with both of them down.”

“Yes, but—”

“Trust me, and go. Now,” I added, when he hesitated. “Commander Stone’s anger at leaving your post will be nothing compared to the wrath that will fall on you for not doing as I ask in this circumstance.”

“There’s nothing stopping you—”

“Can you talk to the earth?” I bit back. “Convince it to heal the wound in the wall rather than break it? No? Then do as I say.”

He glanced at his fellow guard, then gave me a short nod and departed. I looked at the other man, but he held up his hand. “There will be hell to pay if we both left our post, especially if the Adlin are here.”

Which was a fair enough point. There might be no indication of other sleuths in the area, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be nearby, readying a secondary attack. Someone had to be ready to raise the drawbridge and lock everything down should that happen.

Which meant it was up to me alone to delay the Adlin—at least until Trey and his people got there. Urgency pulsed as fiercely as my heartbeat as I ran through the gatehouse and up the nearest set of steps that led to the top of the wall, but it was the earth’s as much as mine. They were so very close to breaking through.

I unslung the rifle as I ran down the wall walk, making little noise thanks to the rubber matting that covered the walkway to prevent slipping during rain. As I neared the junction of the true wall and the false one, I slowed. The air stirred around me, bringing with it not only that foul stench again, but also a warning.

They knew I was there.

I stopped and leaned over the parapet. In the V-shaped space between the original outer wall and the recently raised false one over two dozen figures milled. I couldn’t actually see the children, because several Adlin were now leaning over the top of them, using their bodies to protect them. But the frantic pulse rising up through the stone and metal suggested they were still trying to breach the wall.

I raised the rifle, sighted, and then fired.

Several Adlin went down, their brains spattering across the faces of the others. The others roared in fury and several attempted to climb the rough wall. But even a wall devoid of life and energy seemed resistant to the power of their claws, and they fell back before they got very far. I kept firing, picking them off one by one.

Within seconds, there were at least a dozen dead, but the frantic pulse of the earth had now shifted to the dead wall, and it was breaking down, reforming into a wave of stone and metal that quickly arched over the space to give them a rough umbrella. I cursed, heard a separate rumble in the earth, and spun around. Trey and a half dozen others were running toward me.

“The children have formed a false roof to protect the Adlin and themselves,” I said. “You need to get back downstairs and brace the other side of the wall—they’re almost through it.”

He and his people immediately turned and headed back down the stairs. I made to follow him, but the air spun around me, urging me closer to the outer wall.

I frowned but obeyed. The wall still pulsed under my feet, but I could no longer hear the screaming of the earth. I stopped at the junction where the outer and inner walls met, and peered down. The newly created roof didn’t quite meet either wall at this section and the Adlin were visible far below. A soft glint caught my eye; after a moment, I realized what it was. Silver. Not from any sort of weapon, but rather a bracelet. Only this bracelet wasn’t on the children, but rather one of the Adlin. An Adlin who bore coloring unlike any I’d ever seen before. Large sections of his brown fur had been replaced by patches of lavender gray; he was stained. Just like those children. Just like me.

Despite my desperation to believe the Irkallan weren’t behind all this, the proof of it was standing directly below me.

And while Saska might have been certain that her much-feared queen hadn’t enslaved and impregnated the Adlin and was simply using them, there obviously had been some cross breeding happening.

The Adlin chose that moment to look up, and another chill went through me. Not because his eyes were as lavender as the patches on his fur and filled with an intelligence and awareness that was as rare in the Adlin as his coloring, but because his eyes were human.

Either the Adlin were evolving into a more human form, or they’d not only interbred with the Irkallan during the war, but also with humans.

That was a nightmare I didn’t even want to contemplate.

He roared, revealing teeth that were long, white, and every bit as deadly looking as that of a regular Adlin. It was a sound of defiance, and yet one that held the edge of command. As the sound echoed harshly across the silence, the remaining Adlin moved as a mass, flowing from the edge of the inner wall across to the outer one. The throbbing under my feet instantly muted, but the scream of the earth intensified.

The children, the air whispered. They attack the outer wall.

Which suggested the queen had given up her quest for the other bracelet and was now intent on escape. I ran across to the outer edge, peering down until I spotted Trey and two of his people. A brown-haired man stood on his left, and a woman with dark hair stood on his right. All three had their hands splayed across the wall, but Trey’s hands overlapped those of the other two.

The rest of his soldiers stood in a semicircle several paces farther back from the wall, their weapons held in readiness.

They combine strength to repair, the earth whispered. They will not hear you.

Combining strength… that’s what had been happening with the children. The one capable of earth magic had been using the strength of the other two to help punch a door through the wall.

And while it might be true that Trey wouldn’t hear me, the soldiers below still needed to be warned what was going on. We couldn’t let those kids be taken away—they were too damn dangerous, for a start, but we also needed to probe them more fully, to understand what had been done to them and perhaps even get some idea as to who was behind this whole stinking mess.

“Hey,” I shouted down, “the Adlin are now trying to break out through the curtain wall.”

A pale-skinned woman glanced up. I didn’t recognize her, but she was wearing the colors of a sergeant. “At what point?”

“Twenty feet before the place where to the two walls meet.”

She immediately spoke to one of her counterparts, then as he raced toward the smaller command center, she and the remaining soldiers ran for the drawbridge. I bent and forced my fingers through the rubber matting until I touched the metal. While I had no doubt there were easier ways to contact the earth, this had worked last time. I reached down to that inner part of me again, and said, Trey and the other earth witches need to know what is happening while they work to repair the wall. Can you please warn them?

As the earth agreed to do so, I thrust up and ran across to the main wall, stopping just above the point where the Adlin were clustered. I reloaded the rifle and aimed for the small gap between the false roof and the wall, and then fired everything the gun had. Sparks and metal flew as the pellets caught the edges of the wall, but a lot made it through. Three Adlin went down. The rest gathered up the bodies of the fallen and held them overhead, using them as shields. I swore softly. It was an effective ploy, because even if I reloaded, I’d only be shooting the already dead.

The klaxon sound of a siren began to ring out and, as I looked up, a full squad of soldiers raced toward the broken section of wall. They were fully kitted up, but even so, there were at least seven Adlin still alive down there. It would be a close battle, even with a full squad.

The earth’s screaming reached a fever pitch, the sound so loud and agonized it hurt my ears. As the wall began to vibrate and the metal under my feet grew hotter and hotter, I realized I only had minutes, if not seconds, to get off the damn wall.

I turned and ran.

The vibrations abruptly ceased and, just for a minute, I thought we were safe, that the children’s strength had finally failed them.

Then a whole damn section of the wall exploded upward, taking me with it.